Epiphany
by ClubSauce
Summary: Don't kid yourselves, Shikamaru and Temari. "Happily Ever After" doesn't happen on its own. ShikaTema AU. Rated M for chapter 2. Read and review!
1. Our Mess

**AN: I changed the title, fyi. **I don't know where this is headed, so the rating might change. It could even fall to M. Who knows but me?

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><p><strong>Our Mess<strong>

The doorbell rang. Only a handful of people knew me well enough to come to my door. Playing dead wouldn't fool the likes of them. It was a nice morning, the typical kind that follows a terrible storm like last night's. I set down my newspaper, dusted crumbs off my shirt, and made to open the door.

I wasn't expecting anyone, especially not this early. Chouji always called before visiting, Ino was still in France, and my parents had better things to do than check in on me. My apartment looked like a wreck, unusually messier than normal, but the people I kept close disregarded petty things like that. I assumed the same from whichever friend was at the door.

They rang the doorbell again, a sign of impatience. I picked up my pace and reached for the knob. When I finally answered the door, I wanted to shut it as soon as it opened. I never thought I'd see her out of context, let alone on my doorstep.

She was beautiful, even more so than how I remembered her. She hadn't changed much – same hairstyle, same short skirt, but with differences where it mattered. Her curves were more defined, her skin beautifully tanned, and her eyes holding obscure emotions.

She had no reason to be here. To her, I was just her old high school lab partner, her youngest brother's good friend, maybe even her go-to person when life pissed her off.

She meant a lot more to me, though. She was my preferred conversationalist, the only person I could stand listening to, even if it meant enduring her sharp tongue and wild words. She provided an enticing challenge when we played shougi. She was my favorite friend and the object of my affection for the better half of my life.

But high school had long since finished. We weren't in each other's lives anymore. I went to Harvard, and she went to Princeton. Sure, there wasn't much distance between us, but our desires to stay in touch were nowhere near mutual.

I was in her life by force. The teacher assigned her to be my partner. Gaara and I had to do our middle school projects at his house because my house was admittedly too shabby. I was the only person she knew outside her clique; I was her last choice friend, the one she'd find when everyone else didn't cut it.

She meant a lot to me, but I meant nothing to her. I knew our ties would cut off on graduation day. I had no reason to be upset. It was expected.

Seeing her alone on my doorstep three years later, however, was not expected. I kept by the doorway, leaving it open in case either of us wanted to make a run for it. She made herself at home, opening my fridge, grabbing a glass, and pouring herself my last bit of orange juice. Our eyes hadn't connected yet, and I wasn't sure if I wanted them to. I had so many questions. "What are you doing here?" "How do you know where I live?" "Why did you lead me on?"

But I didn't ask. Temari needed to talk first.

She took a seat on my couch and picked up the newspaper I had been reading, flipping through articles she deemed irrelevant until she had no more pages to turn. She sipped so slowly, deliberately wetting her lips and licking them clean.

I closed the door. It was clear she didn't plan on leaving any time soon. Her glass finally empty, she cleared a spot on my cluttered coffee table to set it down, pushing some items off the edge in the process.

"My place is a mess."

I didn't want to talk to her, but I couldn't help it. She should have permanently left my life after graduation so I'd have enough time to move on. Seeing her after all these years, even if she'd more than likely take advantage of my friendship one last time, brought those feelings back with full force. I lost the motivation to wear a brave face. She defeated me again, this time only minutes into this surprise reunion. All I could do was surrender. "I'll clean it up. Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry."

"What?" I asked. Her voice had changed, now backed by experience, but that's not what stopped me dead in my tracks.

"I'm sorry." She was apologizing, but for what? As far as I knew, she had been oblivious to my love, never noticing or caring to notice me when she didn't have to. She wasn't one to fake remorse, so why was she apologizing to me?

"What for? You never did anything to me."

"I know, and I'm sorry." She stood up, and I backed away. "I treated you like shit, but you liked me anyways."

I don't think air reached my lungs, but I tried to speak anyways.

"That doesn't matter anymore. It never did. That was a long time ago."

She stepped towards me, walking over the mess on my floor. I had no more room to back up.

"It mattered to you then. It matters to me now." My face was flushed, my breathing erratic. How she kept her calm, I don't know.

I felt angry. I felt flustered. I didn't know what to feel. She had me cornered.

"Is this why you came here? You barely spoke to me in high school, you refused to talk to me in college, and now, three years later, you come to my home to tell me you got the timing wrong?"

"Yes."

She took the last step and kissed me, cupping my face in her hands with unimaginable tenderness for the woman I used to know. I had long given up fantasizing a future with Temari. It wasn't in the works for a guy like me, and even if it was possible, it wasn't supposed to happen like this.

But we were new people, still maturing and changing for the better. I put my hands over hers, stepping in even closer, tracing my fingers down her arms until they came to rest firmly on her waist, and kissed her like I'd always wanted to. She reopened my heart, and out poured the feelings I tried so hard to wipe away these last three years. I didn't know how it worked for her; I hoped she'd tell me later, and she did.

She pulled away for a second, taking my lips with her until I couldn't reach any further.

"Is this okay?" she whispered.

"Do you really have to ask that?" I offered with a smile, my first genuine smile since who knows how long. We kissed again, light touches first, then exploring tongues, all a prelude to what we'd do next.

I loved her. I never fell out of love with her. And she loved me, too.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> More oneshots to come. **Please review!**


	2. The Man In My Life

**AN: Well shit. For like 15 minutes, I posted the wrong document to this chapter. Fuck fuck fuuuuuuuuck. I wish you all could feel my despair. To the zero people I fooled, sorry, not that you'll come back to see this anyways. I posted this on 2/13 and took it down hours later to avoid the incoming flux of Valentine's Day stories until things calmed down. Stampedes aren't really my thing.**

This is 100% related to the previous oneshot, so if you haven't already read chapter 1, you should go back and read it either right now or once you finish this. Also, please note the drastic rating change, and not that it really matters, I changed "grade school" in the first chapter to "middle school."

And, because I need to get this off my chest, I really fucking HATE writing summaries. Enjoy.

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><p><strong>The Man in My Life<strong>

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><p><em>Come over tonight. I'm fucking horny.<br>__No shit. What time?_

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><p>We weren't friends with benefits, no. You have to actually be friends to qualify for that relationship, and if the definition of friend still had that little part about "a bond of mutual affection," then no, Hidan and I definitely weren't friends, with or without benefits.<p>

We never discussed our lives, never studied together, and never played chess like real friends should. Did he ask me out to dinner? Not once. Did I ever laugh at his jokes? Hell no. The theory of relativity was a thousand times funnier than he was. Did he make me feel good? A couple nights a week, sure, but lately I've doubted that as well.

We weren't fuck buddies. "Buddies" implies way too much clothes-on interaction for this shabby deal we had. Fuck buddies run into each other every now and then; they buddy up first and fuck later. Hidan and I just skipped to the fucking part. I don't like him enough to want to be his buddy, and lately I haven't been liking him enough to be his fuck.

I wasn't lucky enough to get out of this mess with just a one-night stand. That would have been pure bliss – fuck a hot guy and go on with life the next morning, but no. I saw him a second time and fell for him again. And again and again. And again and again and again. And again. Times two. Plus one.

Our pathetic relationship – no, too light.

This sad connection – still not quite cutting it.

We had a pitiful _association_, like a merchant selling shit to his client, or a hooker working for free, and as awful as that sounds and no matter how disdainful I act about it, that's what I feel like. A hooker working for free. A hooker slash Princeton scholar having sex with a guy damn good in bed. For free.

It's not like I get nothing in return because I do. He makes me come. But other guys have made me come. Hell, no one's made me come more than myself. No bullshit here. That's the case for everyone. I'm the only person dignified enough to admit it.

So yes. Hidan makes me come hard, but that's about it, and that's never been enough for me. I'm not a fling type of woman, and in my defense, booty call doesn't meet the requirements for a fling. Does that take me off the hook? For the sake of my sanity, I won't answer that question.

I've had relationships in the past, some ex-boyfriends stand out more than others, but those times in my life pale in comparison to the sisterly love I feel for my brothers. Yet, since I began my college career three years ago, one past friendship has grown more and more significant in my mind with each passing day.

His name is Shikamaru. I haven't talked to him since graduation.

Technically I met him when Gaara brought him over for their seventh grade science fair project, but I had just begun my freshman year, and I could have cared less about Gaara's middle school friends. They had little in common, but their similar traits worked in their favor when it came to schoolwork. Of course I noticed that much. It's not very often that your little brother finds a classmate who also skipped a grade level. I was glad he found another smart kid to work with. Shikamaru gave him a friend, and I was mighty thankful for that, though I never cared to show it.

It wasn't until he jumped to my grade the next year that I had to acknowledge him. We ran into each other a couple of times before our teacher assigned us to be chemistry lab partners, and though I was skeptical at first, I soon found out how impressive this kid was.

I unwillingly learned so much about him. He had won enough prize money in chess competitions to pay for his first year in college, but despite that mild reassurance, his family didn't have the financial security to send him to a school worthy of his genius. His laziness made me want to punch him, but he did enough outstanding work for others to recognize his intelligence. Before he came, I was the shoe-in to be our graduating class's valedictorian, and I feel no shame in admitting my disappointment when I still beat him out for it. But that was his fault. He was so fucking lazy.

After sophomore year we still kept in touch. He'd still come over to hang out with Gaara. They'd watch documentaries like two old men and build their own computers out of old parts, and sometimes I'd even join them. One of my ex-boyfriends broke up with me for that. The thought still makes me laugh.

We had a decent friendship. Kankurou made fun of me for spending time with him. He wondered why I spent time with him at all, and so did I. He didn't fit in with my group of friends. I wouldn't go as far as to say we were popular, but we intimidated the crap out of underclassmen, and peers our age respected us in a fearful way. We were gods. Just kidding. I'm not that crass. I was and still am fully aware of my own insignificance. Shikamaru was the same way.

That's why I enjoyed his company. He didn't give a shit about what others thought of him. He kept to his own and spoke his mind in such a brilliant way. Conversations with him were sigh of a relief from the stupid high school drama my friends seemed to crave. I liked him. He was a good kid.

But I didn't go for kids. Nice guys in general weren't my type. The men in my life all shared similar characteristics – short light hair, strong personalities and equally muscular bodies, and social status, that last one just by coincidence – I'm not a shallow bitch. And I had a tendency to date guys at least a year older than me, though no one more than seven. That's a bit much, even for my tastes.

Funny thing is, despite the experienced men I've known, their maturity levels couldn't hold a candle to how marvelously Shikamaru held himself. He had poise, he was considerate of others even if he was cynical about it, and he had a mind far superior than anyone I've ever met. It took me a year in college to wonder why I never felt more for him.

Kankurou constantly teased me. He'd always comment that if Shikamaru didn't have a crush on me, he was more than likely gay. Back then I shrugged it off. Shikamaru didn't treat anyone differently than anyone else. He felt the same loyalty towards everyone, and although he'd complain the whole way through, he'd do anything for all of us. It was an absurd thought, for as much as Shikamaru regarded everyone, he hated people just as much as I did.

But now I wonder what he really thought of me. I wish I'd had the mind to ask him questions deeper than what I already knew about him. It makes me nauseous to think that he liked me despite how badly I now realize I treated him, and I don't know why, but I feel a different kind of unease when I consider that maybe he didn't like me after all.

Lately I've been thinking about Shikamaru even more than I think about this asshole Hidan. I've been trying to figure out why I forgo heartfelt relationships for a bastard like him, and I think I know the answer. I can't put a name to what I feel for Shikamaru, to the crawls under my skin and the heavy feeling in my stomach, but it's most reminiscent of guilt. He was the best friend I've ever known, and I never bothered to keep our friendship going these past three years. I'm out of his life, and he's out of mine. The blame for that falls on my shoulders.

The thought of having a boyfriend only reminds me of letting Shikamaru down, and I don't even know if he had feelings for me so it's past me why I feel this way. Hidan's a loophole to that equation, and I'm not ashamed to admit I enjoy sex, but I'm embarrassed that I've let Hidan get this close to me when I kept Shikamaru so far away. But I keep crawling back in bed with him in some sort of half-assed attempt to rid myself of remorse, or maybe I do it to deny that I need to feel guilty at all. All I know is that I really fucked up with both them, but Shikamaru's the one plaguing my mind.

I wonder what he looks like now, if he got even taller and his shoulders grew even wider. What new things does he have to say, and what incredible things has he done at Harvard? I wonder if he hates me. I'll never know.

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><p>I arrived at Hidan's after a long night of studying, and fuck my life. Someone as bright as me shouldn't be seen with a jerk like him. Even so, I felt the growing heat in between my legs. He was going to rock my world, and I hated him for it.<p>

The door was unlocked. I let myself in to the sounds of a running shower. He took way too many showers, fitting for a narcissist like him, high brand hair products and all. His apartment smelled like his favorite shampoo, even in the kitchen where I went to sip some water. I anticipated a sweaty night and I wanted to be ready for it. The shower water stopped flowing, and immediately Shikamaru flashed through my mind. He'd surely think less of me if he knew what I was about to do and who I was about to do it with. I shook my head to get rid of the thought. Hidan calling my name made that a lot easier.

I made my way into his room, thankful that the night was late so it wouldn't last awfully long. It helped that he hadn't bothered to dress after his shower. At least he wanted to start this session right away, too.

He was never one to undress me. He loved his body more than he liked mine, save for my pussy. I touched him more than he touched me; it was no different tonight. I took off my clothes at a pace too fast for my liking and followed him into his bed. It was a familiar place. I didn't like having sex with him at my apartment. I'd go crazy if any ounce of his presence lingered in my home.

We didn't spend much time with foreplay. His dick had grown hard long before I saw him, and I was wet enough to not need his help getting ready. He started on top, lifting my legs to his liking and biting my neck. He wasn't much of a kisser, and I was grateful for that. Kissing lips without heartfelt affection, well that would feel just as bad as letting go of Shikamaru.

Shit, Temari. Don't think about him. Not now. Think about anything else but him.

I opened my eyes – I almost always kept them shut when having sex with Hidan – hoping that the sight of him fucking me would give me something else to think about, but it didn't. I closed my eyes again and shut them ever tighter when I heard him say, "Fuck, Temari."

I hated him for saying my name, especially in this context. It meant nothing. It only riled _him_ up. He didn't say it for me. Shikamaru would've said it for me.

I moaned at the thought, half out of longing and half out of frustration that he could still possibly be on my mind even with another man inside me. I pushed Hidan off my body and rolled us over, hoping the change in control would bring my focus somewhere else.

My heart beat fast, and I knew it wasn't because of the man underneath me. It was the man miles away, the guy on my mind, the friend in my heart. I bounced harder on his dick, trying to get to the point where ecstasy could take over these thoughts, but when I finally came, the hardest I've ever come in my twenty-one years of life, I whispered the word that broke me down.

"Shikamaru."

I didn't care if Hidan heard me. I didn't care if his shouts drowned out my confession. I got off of him mid-orgasm, unable to deal with myself and the turmoil in my stomach, and ran to the bathroom. Helpless, I fell to the ground naked, pulled my knees to my chest and let myself cry.

I hated myself. I hated the cum running down my legs, and I hated the circumstance that brought it. I hated that I threw Shikamaru away, and I hated that I was too blind to love him when I had the chance. And most of all, I hated that I'd run so far away from my epiphany that it was too late to repair what we could've had.

My tears dripped onto my chest. I had never felt filthier in my life. The only thing I had to wipe myself clean was Hidan's used towel, and the gross feeling of rubbing it on my thighs and breasts made me sick. I couldn't bear to see myself naked in his mirror. My eyes were red and my face was flushed, not from my orgasm but from my shame. I opened the bathroom door, only looking at Hidan to make sure he was asleep before I picked my clothes off the floor and dressed myself.

I found his phone and deleted my number from it. Fuck this son of a bitch. Fuck him for fucking me. I left as soon as I could, for the very last time, forever erasing him from my life.

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><p>I returned home at midnight, driving the way back in silence save for my sharp curses and tears. Everything I could hit, I did until my hands hurt as much as my torn heart. I couldn't breathe without feeling daggers in my chest, and my mind ached with years of regret. The shower wasn't hot enough, even on its highest heat. My skin reeked of shame that I needed to peel off with scorching water.<p>

I felt like a slut, like I slept with every one but the man I loved so much, and the thought that he might not want anything to do with me grabbed at my guts and twisted until my mangled body could no longer stand. My hands tugged at my soaked hair, trying to rip it out by the roots to punish myself for fucking everything up. I couldn't move, couldn't get up from the shower floor, the water burning my body but my tears lighting a fire much worse.

I didn't sleep that night. My mind swam with agonizing thoughts and useless wishes, and as much as I wanted to drink, I desperately didn't want anything to blur my mind of Shikamaru. I wanted him by my side, holding my hand, talking to me, insulting my behavior, anything he'd be willing to offer and everything I'd willingly accept. I wanted to see him again, to try and mend even just our friendship. I didn't know where he was, where he lived or how to get there, but I had to find out. I needed to see him. I was desperate for him.

My headache grew into the next morning when I called Gaara, trying to deny that something was terribly wrong and holding back shallow breaths from the onset of imminent sobs. I asked for Shikamaru's phone number, for his address, for whatever information about him that I never bothered to ask for when I saw him last. He knew nothing useful but led me to someone who might. I spent the day speaking to person after person, stranger after stranger until I found his address. I wrote it down on a paper and kept it in the most secure place I knew.

Every day for the next four months I'd look at it, study it in case I ever lost it. Those numbers and letters were seared in my mind and on my heart. It took me a while to put myself back together, but I wanted to be ready for him if he was ready for me.

I wasn't sure what would happen. He might let me in, he might slam the door in my face, I didn't know, but there was only one way to find out. Maybe he already had the perfect relationship, with someone who had valued him from the beginning, but the need just to see him gave me enough bravery to drive the distance to his home.

I walked to his complex and climbed the stairs to his floor, nervous and ready for the moment that would change my life forever, for better or worse. I saw his door, the number nailed next to it matching the address I knew by heart. I took a deep breath and my hand lingered for a moment, basking in the significance of this next moment.

I rang his doorbell, and my heart skipped a beat. I thought I heard light movement, and out of anxious anticipation I rang it again. The words I had been practicing all this time needed to be said.

I watched the doorknob turn, holding my breath to keep my heart from pumping out of my chest. The door opened, finally breaking the brick wall between us. There was no turning back now.

There he stood only an arm's reach away, the man I'd fallen completely in love with, the boy who swept me off my feet long before I knew.

I gave him my heart that day, and he's held it ever since.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Once again, if you haven't already read Chapter 1, you really should. It's the sequel to this. I wrote them out of order.

I admittedly rushed through this and had a hard time figuring out which tenses to use. I hope you didn't mind. Quantity over quality, though I'm afraid I achieved neither. Anyone would have written this better.

I'm really bummed no one seemed to read the first chapter. I sorta sold out here. I'll be honest. I expected more reviews than what I got. What's the point in favoriting a story and adding it to your alert list if you don't leave a review? Big sigh.

_**PLEASE check out my other stories! **_Yeah, that's right. I'm not above begging. :) I love my fic about Anko and Tsunade, and I think you'll like it, too.

**Review or I will color myself blue (with cancerous paint and a prickly brush). **But really, please review. It would mean the absolute world to me.


	3. Square One and a Half

**AN:** I strongly suggest you read the previous two chapters before continuing (even though I didn't do that before writing this).

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><p><strong>Square One and a Half<strong>

"Where do we go from here?" I quietly asked her. Her head was turned away from me, her green eyes examining the photos on my bed stand. I peered over her messy hair to look at them, too, and wondered out loud how I managed to live without her for so long. She turned to face me then.

My bed barely fit us both, something I hadn't bothered to register until now despite the majority of our time spent underneath its covers. But I was comfortable, more so than I think I've ever been now that I had her by my side. Still, with every question she could answer, I had that much more to ask. This day and these feelings, both emotional and physical, I had dreamed of before only to wake up alone.

Not this time.

She was lying on her back with her arm draped across her stomach, parts of her bare and the rest tangled in my bed sheets. Her other arm rested above her head on the pillow, and she was deep in thought. I asked her again, my voice firmer this time, "Temari, what happens now?"

She finally looked up and met my eyes in earnest before pulling me down to rest with her. We made do with the small bed, though I think we'd still have held each other this close sleeping in something bigger.

"We stay together," she said.

"How, though?"

"We just do." She leaned in to kiss me with confidence – more than I had, anyway. I've always wanted conviction like hers but never like I needed it now. I know she realized it to, but today would change our lives if done right for once.

"I wish it were that simple," I told the truth. We both needed to hear it. Now wasn't the time for denial.

"Well, why can't it be? I love you and want to be with you, so I that's what I'm going to do," she explained.

"You remember that you live in Jersey, don't you? And I live five hours away? And we both have school to finish?"

"Why does that have to get in the way?"

"Because it's exactly what got in the way before." I didn't want to cut corners, even at the expense of spoiling this otherwise perfect reunion. She showed frustration that I didn't believe in her, and I felt bothered that she could so casually overlook the major obstacles in our undefined relationship.

She tried to sit up; it was for show, for the sake of making her dissatisfaction known. We both knew that much. She wouldn't run off after coming this far, and I wouldn't let her leave a second time regardless. I wanted to make a point, too, so I kept her from leaving the bed.

"Stay here," I said while easily holding her down.

"I know that," she snapped at me and slapped my arms away.

"What?"

"I don't get you. I'm not going to leave you, Shikamaru. I never will, so why do you still doubt we can happen? What do we have left to worry about? It can be so simple if you just let it!"

My grip around her loosened as she tried to help me understand her plan, but what I understood was that she had no plan. She tossed my arms aside and sat up, now kneeling over me, no longer covered by those bed sheets and yet, not even her nakedness could distract me from the intensity in her eyes. She forcefully took my face in her palms.

"Listen. I know what you're thinking: All this shit kept us apart, so what's stopping it from keeping us that way? Right? _Right?" _She shook my head in a mean plea for me to keep up.

"Yes. That's exactly right," I answered. "I know it was hard for you, Temari, but it was a hell of a lot harder for me. I can't just overcome barriers like that when those were some of our only barriers to begin with."

"Ugh," she sighed, annoyed with our disagreement. She tried to sit on my chest but I sat up before she could pin me down even further. She straddled my hips instead, not unlike our position just an hour before this conversation began, only then we were speaking much less and moving a lot more. "Nara, we had more problems than that. Unrequited love, denial, general ignorance that the other person cared - any of those ring a bell?"

"Please, Temari. Don't throw those things around like they were solved in a day. It took you years to figure out your shit, but I had to deal with all of it for a lot fucking longer."

"_My_ shit? It might've taken me longer to realize how I feel about you, but at least I actually did something about it." She roughly shoved me back into the pillows. My head connected with the headboard on the way down in a painful thud. "I came here, didn't I? And now that we're together, you don't want to keep it that way in the only way we can? I don't fucking get it."

"Well, if that's our only option, it sucks," I groaned with my eyes closed, my hands rubbing my new bruise.

"I never said it wouldn't suck." She leaned against my chest so skin touched more skin.

"I don't want it to suck. I don't want being with you to suck," I said, unable to think and speak beyond the basics. My head hurt in more ways than one.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she exclaimed and sharply sat up once again, instantly shedding away any possible sympathy for continued exasperation. Her weight rested below my ribs. "Just hours ago you were wallowing in misery. I'm going to take a chance and guess that you feel a lot better about life now that I'm in the picture again – "

"And as arrogant as ever," I mumbled under my breath.

"_Shut_ up," she threatened me, poking me in the forehead with more strength than should belong in a single finger. "The point is that the worst is over. You went from being an old man in an 18 year-old's body to a slightly less old man in a naked 18 year-old's body with a naked me on top of you." She joked with a wide grin and I could feel my own growing, but this new emotion added a fresh flair to my throbbing head. She had really settled right on top of my diaphragm, too. My breaths were growing shallower. "It'll only get better. I know it will, and I know you know it, too."

She leaned in towards me to caress my hair and kiss my hairline, and in that short span of seconds I felt her entire mood shift until I sensed an emotion I forgot was possible for Temari to display. "You know it, don't you?" she softly asked me. Not quite vulnerable or nervous, but gentle, and it took until now to remember that gentle Temari was the one I loved most.

"Of course I do," I reassured her, for the moment ignoring my physical discomfort to ease her mental one. I hugged her and kissed her sincerely because I knew no other way to love the woman in my life. She somehow leaned in even closer before grabbing my shoulders to prop herself up, effectively digging into my torso and flattening my lungs for good.

"You better," she warned with that devious smirk. "Besides, we're Shikamaru and Temari. We're fucking geniuses. We'll just finish school and plan out the rest of ours lives together. Piece of cake."

"Only if you don't kill me first," I struggled to get the words out.

"What did you say?" she yelled with a glare that would have sent me to death if this suffocation didn't work.

"I can't breathe. Get off of me!" I managed to utter, hoping she'd be able to decipher my words through my feeble pants. We pushed off each other and found ourselves on the floor tangled in the bed sheets we brought down with us. The air rushed back into my thankful lungs and I opened my eyes just in time to prepare for Temari's incoming punch.

"Why didn't you tell me I was smothering you?" she said as her fist made contact with my bicep.

"OW. We were having a nice moment. I didn't want to ruin it."

"Tolerating pain for pleasure? I wouldn't make that a habit if I were you, at least not with me."

"Woman, I already have."

"You're sure I'm worth it?"

"Temari, look at me." And she did. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> And then they fucked. And then they ate food. Then they lived and died.

At this point I'm trying to force myself to write anything down and get anything out there for my own personal development. Fanfiction was supposed to be one of my top creative priorities, but then real life happened and more substantial opportunities presented themselves and boy did I take advantage.

Now, review.


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